


A Defense Against Demons

by snarkydame



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkydame/pseuds/snarkydame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheppard touches something he shouldn't, and sets loose a broken weapon made to combat the Ancients.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Defense Against Demons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vecturist](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Vecturist).



> Written for Vecturist during the Sheppard_hc Secret Santa Exchange: For the prompt "Shep, Atlantis and the ATA gene - it can be anything from something affecting Shep's connection to the city to a withdrawal from Atlantis/Ancient tech when Atlantis is on Earth and Shep is stationed elsewhere. Bonus points for it affecting other members of the expedition."

 

Sometimes, he thought, this whole galaxy had it in for them.

Or, okay, he amended, wiping green-tinted mud off his face – maybe it just had a really juvenile sense of humor.

"Come on, Sheppard!" Rodney called from down the trail. "Are you done with your impersonation of an otter?" The grin on his face made John seriously consider flinging more of the mud in its direction.

"What's an otter?" Ronon asked, reaching down to haul John out of the mud by the strap of his pack.

"A very intelligent animal," he managed to answer before Rodney could, "known for its grace and agility."

"And its tendency to slide down muddy banks face first." Rodney bounced on his toes, still grinning. John thought he was just happy that it hadn't been him, this time.

Below them, easily stepping from stone to stone on the broken remnants of the old road, Teyla studiously ignored them all.

"Is it much farther, Rodney?" she asked.

"No, no, not much farther," he said, looking down at his handheld. John thought, a little sourly, that his tumble down the hillside seemed to have restored McKay's good humor – the last mile or so of hiking had brought out his best sniping grumbles, but he was all sunshine now.

They caught up with Teyla and rounded the next hill more or less as a group – Rodney was trailing slightly, distracted by his power readings. Ronon pulled him level.

"Wha . . ."

"Look."

The hills dropped off sharply just ahead, and the road (what was left of the road) dipped down into a valley so abrupt and so perfectly round that it looked like the impact zone of some small, high velocity meteorite, long overgrown with trees.

The ruins of a temple filled nearly the whole valley. It could hardly be anything else, John thought, eying the broken, moss covered towers that rose out of the trees. Little too ornate to be a lab. Too isolated to be a government building.

"Huh," Rodney said. "That's not Ancient."

"You think, McKay?"

"Well," he said, absently pulling out a power bar. "I don't think they really went into gargoyles much."

* * *

It took another couple of hours to make their way down the hillside, as the road degenerated into a switchback trail so tortured they nearly had to take it sitting down, grabbing tree trunks to keep themselves from falling.

"This had better be worth it," John growled, wiping yet more mud off of his hands. Rodney grunted, not even looking at the mossy grime that coated his own pants – he was too intent on the power readings.

"We will find out shortly," Teyla said. Even her patience was wearing thin. Wordlessly, Ronon plucked a leaf out of her hair. He grinned as he handed it to her, and she raised an eyebrow. Ronon seemed unfazed by the streaks of mud on his face. He looked, John thought, like a kid who'd been digging around in the dirt, happy as anything.

"Let's go," John said, feeling old.

The steps up to the temple doors started almost immediately after the descent; wide, shallow stairs lined with carvings that were now softened by moss and indecipherable.

"The archeologists will have a field day with this one."

Rodney growled. "My guys get it first, if whatever's making these readings turns out to be remotely useful."

"Play nice with the other kids, McKay."

Up close, the gargoyles Rodney had noticed from the hillside were pretty disturbing. They were subtly different from the versions he'd seen on earth – still grotesque, but somehow more fluid, like they could shrug out of the stone at any moment. They all had wings. Not the bat-like wings he would expect back home, but feathered ones. It made them look more like a flock of tormented crows, caught turning unwillingly into things with hands and teeth and wide, staring eyes. The moss that crept across the cracked and broken stone just made them look like they were tearing themselves free of the forest. Or being dragged back in.

John shuddered, just a bit. Just the cold, he told himself. Just the cold mud that coated his clothes and made them stick to his skin. That was all.

Rodney pushed past him as the door. "This way," he commanded, pointing into the dark. John yanked back on his pack.

"What?" he snapped, glaring back at him.

"Oh, yeah, running off into the ruins of a creepy temple would work out _so_ well, McKay. Didn't you ever watch Indiana Jones?"

Rodney blinked at him, then started, as he noticed the crumbling remains of another screaming crow-thing, perched in an alcove at his shoulder.

"Good point," he muttered, backing away from the little gargoyle. "Try not to trip any booby traps, Sheppard."

"Thanks."

But he felt better taking point, anyway. It was _exactly_ the kind of place that should be booby trapped, he thought.

* * *

Almost disappointingly, they made their way to the source of McKay's power readings without any incident more dangerous than Ronon bumping his head on a low hanging stone in the ceiling.

"It's an altar. Of course it's an altar." He slapped at Rodney's hand. "Don't touch it. Remember what happened last time?"

"Whatever." Rodney gave him a wounded look, rubbing his knuckles. "What are the odds of that happening again?"

John gave him a look.

"Right. Fine. I'll just take a few readings first, I guess."

The room was the largest they'd seen so far – it was a wide, shallow bowl, with the altar at the center. The rotted remains of wooden benches moved out in concentric rings around it, spaced a good five or six feet apart. Ronon kicked at one, and it crumbled into dust and splinters, leaving silky looking streaks of dust and mold on his boot.

"Leave something for the archeologists, Ronon," Teyla chided him. She turned back to her study of a carving set into the wall by the entrance. From the altar, all John could make out was the arch of wings over her head.

"Funny."

John turned. Rodney was frowning down at his scanner. It wasn't his 'oh no, we're doomed' frown, so John leaned closer.

"What's funny?"

"Hmmm? Oh, these readings. They're not coming from the altar. Or they are, but really they're coming from something inside of it."

"Rodney, that thing's solid rock." He walked around it, just to make sure. "I don't see any seams or joints or anything. Not even a blood cache."

"Well that's reassuring. Remember that temple on M8Y-709?"

"That the one where they thought your blood would make it rain?" Ronon asked.

"No, I believe it was the one where they wished to make an elixir of youth," Teyla answered absently. She traced one wing of the carving with a careful finger.

" _Anyway._ My point is, unless this thing is hollow, I don't see how there'd be anything inside of it."

"Well, how do you know it's not?" Rodney asked.

"I don't, really. But how would they lift it? It's five feet wide and there aren't any handholds." As if to demonstrate how difficult it would be to lift, John laid his hand flat on the side of the altar.

Even as the pale green light raced across the stone, he was thinking that hadn't been the smartest thing he'd ever done.

Falling backwards into Rodney, who seemed to be yelling at him though he couldn't hear him, only confirmed it.

* * *

"Hey! Sheppard! Don't be dead. No, you're not dead, you have a pulse. So wake up. John!"

He blinked. He seemed to be lying with his head in Rodney's lap. He twitched, and caught Rodney's hand as he moved to slap his face again.

"Cut it out," he growled. "I'm fine." And he did feel fine, actually. Weird.

He sat up, squinting at Teyla and Ronon, who were crouched beside him.

"You were unconscious for only a moment," Teyla told him. "Are you sure you're fine?"

"Of course he's not 'fine,'" Rodney snapped. "He _touched_ something. Who was it warning me about booby traps, huh? We're going back. Keller needs to check you out."

"Seriously, I feel fine." He brushed him off, and stood. "See? Nothing wrong."

"Right, I'll just take your word for it, shall I? The spooky green light and you _fainting_ , that's nothing to worry about at all."

"Light?" Ronon's question silenced both of them. "I didn't see a light."

Teyla, too, was looking at them oddly. "Nor did I," she said.

They looked at each other. John sighed. "Keller, right?"

" _Thank_ you."

* * *

It wasn't any easier getting out of the valley than it had been getting in. And the planet's first sun was setting, leaving only the cool, reddish second sun to light the way. It gave the trees' shadows a threatening cast they hadn't had before.

He caught Rodney and the others studying him as they went. He didn't mind so much, though he made a point of rolling his eyes where Rodney could see.

Really, not feeling any ill effects seemed like a bad sign. Whatever that green light had been (that green light that Ronon and Teyla couldn't see), it hadn't knocked him out for no reason.

Thoughts of alien possession and hidden triggers dogged him all the way back up the trail. At the gate, he paused.

"Maybe I shouldn't go back to Atlantis, until Keller can clear me," he said.

The others exchanged a look, and Rodney sighed. "I guess that means me too, huh." When John looked at him, he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "I saw it too, that light."

John felt a smile trying to cross his face. Hanging out alone in the red lit forest hadn't appealed to him anyway.

"Sure, Rodney," he said. "We'll both wait here."

Teyla gripped his shoulder. "We will return shortly," she said, and Ronon nodded behind her.

"Oh, don't rush on our account," Rodney griped. "It's not like we might be dying or anything."

"Way to keep a positive attitude, McKay," John said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

* * *

Keller wrapped up her equipment as the red sun set. "You seem fine," she said. "It worries me that you lost consciousness, but your vitals are normal now. We should keep an eye on you back on Atlantis, but I don't see any reason to keep you out of the city."

"Great!" Rodney said, hopping to his feet. "I'm starving."

"Yeah, that's great, doc." John smiled at her, thankful. Without the red light of the second sun, the shadows weren't as eerie, but the forest was still creepy in the dark. Those gargoyle crow-things had probably been based on something, after all.

Rodney was already headed for the DHD.

* * *

When the more thorough check-up in Keller's lab didn't reveal anything either, she sent John and Rodney off to the mess.

"Come back in the morning, and we'll take another look, just to be sure. But I think you're fine."

"You're just guessing, aren't you?" Rodney glowered at her.

"Yes, Rodney, I'm pulling the diagnosis out of a hat, just like I always do." She pushed him towards John. "You should feed him, Colonel, he's getting cranky."

"Come on, McKay, I think they've got those pastries from M3H-674 today."

"Ooh, is Sargent Calesster on KP duty? He knows how to get them all flakey."

"Let's go find out," John said, herding him out the door.

"Remember to come back in the morning, Colonel!" Keller called after them, and he waved back.

* * *

The transporter wasn't working. John frowned at it, and touched the panel again. It flickered oddly around his finger, and the doors opened to the same corridor they'd come from.

"Weird," he said, as McKay keyed his radio.

"Hey, Zelenka, what'd you do to the transporters?"

A moment later, Radek's voice crackled over the comms. _Is nothing wrong with transporters, Rodney. Which one are you stuck in?_

"We're not _stuck_ , it's just not working," he snapped, punching a finger at the display. The doors promptly closed, and opened again – to the corridor just outside the mess. "Huh," Rodney said, frowning at his finger. "Nevermind."

 _Call me again when there is nothing wrong, I am not busy with anything today. No, nothing to do at all._

"Sorry, Zelenka." Rodney barely seemed to notice he'd actually been polite – he was staring at John, eyebrows furrowed.

"What was that?" he asked. John swallowed, looking at the cheerily glowing panel.

"Maybe a glitch?"

"Sure. Maybe a glitch. I'll look into it after we get something to eat."

* * *

They joined Teyla and Ronon at their table, and Ronon handed Rodney his pastry without comment – he didn't care much for the sweet filling.

John tried to join in the conversation normally, but he couldn't help feeling a little unsettled. It didn't help that Rodney kept looking at him sideways, as if he were an equation that didn't quite add up.

"What's wrong with you two?" Ronon finally asked, leaning back in his chair. "What did Keller say?"

"She said we're fine," John answered, glaring at Rodney.

Teyla raised an eyebrow.

"It's nothing," he said, and kicked McKay under the table before he could open his mouth.

"Really."

They didn't believe him, he could tell. But Kanaan came by with Torren, and Lorne came by to invite Ronon to a training match.

While the two were distracted, John tugged Rodney away from the table, clapping Lorne and Kanaan on the shoulder and making small talk as they edged away.

"What the hell, Sheppard?"

"I wanna try something." Maybe it was the grimness in his voice, but Rodney didn't argue.

They went back to the transporter. John flexed his fingers, and hit the panel. Again, the screen flickered – more noticeably this time.

They both stared at it.

"Okay. That shouldn't happen."

"You think, Rodney?" He thought he kept most of the growing stress out of his voice, but Rodney shot him a look, eyes wide, and he realized he'd failed.

Rodney's jaw firmed, and he grabbed John's elbow. "Come on."

* * *

"We're not going back to see Keller?" John asked, as he followed Rodney down the corridor.

"Not yet." Rodney walked a little faster. "I want to try something first."

They reached Rodney's lab. "All right," he yelled, hands on his hips, "everybody out!" Startled scientists looked up, noticed the look in his eyes, and left, leaving programs running and equations undone.

John looked at him.

"What? They aren't working on anything that's going to blow up if they leave it alone for five minutes. It's a slow week."

"What are we doing here, Rodney?"

"Experimenting." Rodney grabbed something off his desk and handed it to John. "This is a nightlight, basically. It makes pretty lights, totally useless. Anyone can use it, now that I've initialized it."

"So?"

"So, see if you can turn it on."

John stared at it. It was just a flattened sphere, smooth and featureless. It had a nice weight to it. And it was stubbornly dark in his hand.

He looked up. Rodney met his eyes. "Huh," he said.

* * *

Almost an hour later, they'd tried every Ancient doodad in Rodney's lab. Nothing worked, not even the ones that didn't require the ATA gene after being turned on. Some of them, ones that Rodney turned on before handing them over, actually shut down in John's hands.

"Well. This isn't good." John jerked his gaze away from the latest darkened gadget to yell at Rodney for stating the obvious. But Rodney wasn't looking at him. He held the last bit of tech, a music player intended for children.

It was silent. By the look on Rodney's face, it wasn't supposed to be.

"Don't say it."

"Yeah. Okay."

* * *

They took the long way back to Keller's lab, as the transporters wouldn't work for either of them now. A headache was starting to build behind his eyes, and John squinted across the hall at Rodney.

"How's your head?"

"What? It's fine. Wait, why are you asking? Do you have a headache? Am I going to have a headache? Great. That's great."

"Relax. It might not be related."

"Of course it is. That's how things work with us."

"I still don't feel sick," he said, ignoring the headache for the moment. "It's probably not a virus."

"No, no, that would be too easy." Rodney scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Something that started with a green light coming from a featureless stone with a mysterious power signature, something that is now interfering with your ATA gene, _and_ mine, thanks for that, and is actually interfering with the tech itself? . . . yeah. I'm thinking more along the lines of some sort of nanite weapon."

"From an altar in the middle of an abandoned planet?"

Rodney threw his hands in the air. "Why the hell not? Anybody who got as many people to worship them as the Ancients did probably inspired just as many people to make them demons."

"So what do we do? Blow up another generator?"

Rodney looked askance at him. "Woolsey might object, but we'll keep that in mind."

The headache was really getting distracting now. He made himself walk straight, but the corridor seemed to pulse around him.

"Sheppard?" Well. He'd thought he was keeping to a straight line. He pushed himself back away from Rodney.

"Sorry."

Rodney sighed, and wrapped a fist in his sleeve. "Come on," he said, and tugged him along.

* * *

By the time they got back to Keller Sheppard could hardly see, his head hurt so badly. And from the way Rodney was stumbling, he wasn't faring much better.

"When I said, 'come back in the morning,' I really didn't mean 'come back in two hours looking like the walking dead.'" Keller's hands were gentler than her voice as she tugged them towards the beds. "What happened?"

John buried his face in a pillow, trying to block out the lights. And the noise. Even the air seemed to be pushing at his head.

Vaguely, he heard Rodney explaining things to Keller. His voice was growing more and more strained, and finally he just said, tersely, "Get Zelenka to help," and went silent. John wanted to check on him, but couldn't make himself move.

* * *

He pulled himself out of a nightmare of feathered gargoyles chewing on his head to find Ronon hauling Lorne into the infirmary. The Major held on to Ronon's arm with white knuckled hands.

"What the hell, Sheppard?" Ronon sounded pissed. "You said you were fine."

John blinked at him. Lorne met his eyes, confused and in pain.

"Don't worry, Major," he croaked. "You'll be all right."

Ronon growled, and hauled Lorne onto the next bed.

"Has the Major come into contact with anyone with the ATA gene since Colonel Sheppard touched him?" That was Zelenka. When had Dr. Z gotten here?

"No," Ronon rumbled. "The only one he sparred with was me."

"That's something, at least." Zelenka came into view, rubbing at his eyes.

"Rodney?" John winced at the scratch in his voice. It rasped through his head like a buck saw.

"Is unconscious." By the shortness of Zelenka's answer, he hadn't figured out how to stop the nanite weapon yet.

If Rodney felt anything like John did, he probably wouldn't be a lot of help, even if he could stay conscious.

Keller made an adjustment to the IV line that ran to his arm – he hadn't even noticed it. "Don't worry about them too much, Colonel. You're not dying."

Zelenka's muttered " . . . not yet," was not as reassuring, as he slipped back into the pulsing dark.

* * *

He came back to the quiet buzz of a room full of people trying to be quiet. Teyla and Ronon leaned on the wall, out of the way. Teyla met his eyes – her smile was tight, but honest, and the rising panic subsided.

The spiking pain in his head had faded to a dull ache. Pain meds. Thank you, Keller.

Rodney voice sounded as wrecked as his own had – he turned his head to see him pointing out readings on Zelenka's laptop screen, while two of his scientists conferred with Keller behind them. Rodney's eyes were bloodshot.

"It's not just blocking the gene," he ground out. "It's _shutting down_ the Ancient technology it comes in contact with."

"That's why it's not killing you!" Keller interrupted eagerly. "It's designed to affect as much of the Ancient infrastructure as it can."

"Great," Rodney said. "I have to live with this headache while the city shuts down around me."

Zelenka slapped him in the ribs. "City is not shutting down. Only the transporters have been affected thus far, and they are easily isolated."

"So we're just quarantined for the foreseeable future?"

"Have faith," Zelenka muttered, focused again on his computer. "We are putting together an EMP device."

"Aw," John murmured, mostly to his pillow. "I don't get to blow up a generator, huh."

"You wouldn't anyway," Lorne answered from his other side, voice shot. "I think you owe me a turn."

"You're all awake, excellent." Keller stood where she could see all of the them. "The headache seems to be an unintended side effect of the nanite weapon. Dr. Zelenka says it seems to have been designed to go unnoticed until crucial systems could be infected."

"So hit it with the EMP and get rid of it already," John said, waving a hand over his head. Colors seemed to trail after it, and he watched them with a smile. Pain meds. Thank you, Keller.

The doctor exchanged a glance with Radek. "We. . . can't. Yet."

Ronon and Teyla straightened away from the wall.

"What do you mean, you can't?" That was Lorne, John thought. Why wasn't Rodney . . . oh. He was glaring at Zelenka's laptop like he could rush the equations with his mind alone. He'd already known.

Zelenka pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. " If we hit the nanites with the EMP before we can shore up the infected systems, then the programs they inserted will 'escape,' in a manner of speaking. They are isolated, right now, in you, and in the transporter systems. The EMP would undo that isolation, and the program is designed to spread out, and then go dormant the instant before the EMP would destroy it."

"So as soon as we brought the systems back online, we'd infect the main computer systems. Atlantis would begin to shut down." Rodney glanced up and met John's eyes.

"We have to shut down the program before we can kill the nanites."

Keller sighed. "And I can't give you any more meds. They won't be effective for very much longer."

Ah. Wonderful.

The warmth of the meds ebbed quickly enough, as the pain ramped up. He curled his hands into fists and tried to focus on the scientists working around Rodney's bed. Rodney was curled up behind them, eyes mere slits in his strained face.

Lorne was silent, unconscious again.

The room felt . . . warped, somehow. He watched the walls bow and the floor buckle until the shadows on the edges on his vision boiled up, and overcame him.

* * *

He woke slowly, blinking in time to the slow, even beeping of machines. Ronon sat beside him, feet up on the bed.

"You awake for real this time?" he rumbled.

Maybe, he thought. "I dunno."

Ronon grunted. "Lorne's already up. Rodney's still out."

"My head doesn't hurt."

Ronon smiled. "Shouldn't. They set off the EMP about an hour ago."

He stretched slowly, and sat up on an elbow. "Hey."

Ronon raised an eyebrow.

"I told you I was fine."

"Not that you knew that at the time." Teyla flicked his ear as she came over. "But yes. You all are."

She reached across and handed him something – his LSD.

As Rodney turned over and rubbed at his nose in his sleep, John watched the screen light up in his hand, and smiled.

  
 _fin_


End file.
